


Verdure

by Findarato



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23164357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: Lio, Galo, and many plants.[[Written for the Spark of Hope zine.]]
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 7
Kudos: 107





	Verdure

**Author's Note:**

> Zine link: https://twitter.com/sparkofhopezine   
> Please feel free to check it out! a lot of amazing work from everyone.

**I.**

Galo’s apartment is decisively cramped, for someone of his stature and personality. Muted grey walls with the exception of the bathroom (white and black tiles), unlaminated creaky wood floor—but the living room is clean, the kitchen messy only in the sink, and the bedroom is…presentable. The bed is large.

And a lone plant in the corner, straggling and struggling. A fourth of the leaves are yellowed.

“You’ve just about killed it,” Lio says. He’s been here for less than five minutes and he’s judging.

“It’s not dead! It just…needs some help?” Galo pokes a leaf; it crumbles and falls. “Okay, a lot of help.”

Lio continues to eye it. “I didn’t expect you to even have one.”

“It was a gift a few months ago. From…him.” Galo’s breath catches slightly. “Actually, maybe I won’t keep it.”

Why did he give it to you? I didn’t take him for that type of person.”

“Gov—Kray said it was a ficus? And that it stood for being a leader that wanted unity and peace.”

Maybe he had the plant for so long and just didn’t want it anymore, so he left it in Galo’s care? It’s a pretty tall plant, more like a small tree, actually. Someone used to care for it.

“I’ll do something about it. A plant is a plant.”

Galo tilts his head. “You know something about them?”

“No.” In fact, almost nothing. “But it deserves a second chance…don’t you think?”

Softly laughing, Galo rests his arm against Lio. “Rebuilding the world means rebuilding the plants, too, you’re saying.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He needs to look up things tomorrow. And pick up a few supplies. This place is sunny, ventilated, and despite being cramped, not all that bad.

Still, how soon can he be thinking in terms of plans?

He watches Galo fluffing couch pillows with one hand and the other holding a phone to his ear to order food. His socks are mismatched.

It’s probably useless to try, Lio thinks, even as he fills a bowl with an unknown amount of water and dumps it in the pot.

But after two weeks, it survives.

Among his hours spent on Galo’s computer, out digging in the rubble, or passed out at Burning Rescue’s, he figures out how to keep it alive. And after bringing a picture of it to a florist, he learns Kray was actually right about a ficus standing for unity and peace.

Like Kray actually believed in that—he sure had the nerve to put his false, nice-sounding feelings on a plant he discards at Galo’s place?

Kray would’ve let the plant die, which is precisely why Lio’s keeping it alive.

When its leaves become full and the right colour, he’s just a little bit proud of it—and himself.

“Must’ve been the second chance we gave it,” he says when Galo comments on it. That was more than what the world had once given him and the rest of the Burnish.

**II.**

Bad weather leads to flood warnings, closed roads, and not enough patience. Lio finally takes as many backroutes as possible, ignoring all courtesy as he weaves between cars. He’s got one flimsy poncho that he bought at the pharmacy earlier—it’s  _ ugly _ . Thankfully his motorcycle is amazing; he’s only dangerously skidded once. By the time he’s back, there’s mud up to his calves   


“I’m home,” he announces, kicking off his shoes and shedding the stupid poncho. It crumples in his hand.

Galo emerges from the bedroom, nose red and eyes hazy. He’s had a cold for the past two days. “Was just about to call. It’s pretty awful out there, isn’t it?”

“I managed.” Into the trash goes the plastic poncho. “Here.” He hands over a bag, containing meds and cough drops and some other items.

“Thanks.” Galo unwraps a popsicle. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“A plant.” Lio points to the meds. “You should take those first.”

Galo shakes his head. “Not on an empty stomach. But you really bought a plant?”

He pulls away the soaked paper. “It’s a peace lily.”

The popsicle snaps in Galo’s mouth as he bites down. “We already have plants.”

“ _ A _ plant. Singular.” Lio sets it on the ledge. “You have one huge window and only one plant. You could have more.   


“But one’s enough?”

“It was on sale. And…I wanted it.” It had been smaller than the others, shoved in the back.

Galo stares at the peace lily, then at Lio. And then he laughs. “I really didn’t take you for a plant person.” The laugh turns into a cough.

Lio points to the meds again. “It’ll brighten up the place. You said I could decorate.”

“I meant the walls.”

“I’m not bringing it back, it’s very delicate and doesn’t like to be moved.” He feels only slightly bad arguing with Galo when he’s sick, but it does make Galo less stubborn.

“Mm. Fine. But I’m not watering it. One plant’s enough for me.” And he sneezes. “Sorry.”

Lio reaches out and ruffles his messy hair. “Go back to bed—I’ll make you something. And take those right now.”

“Okay.” Galo, very briefly, rests his cheek against Lio’s hand. “I hope I don’t get you sick.”

“I just bought a plant. It’ll improve the air so I don’t.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It is now.”

He makes soup without scalding himself, brings it to Galo, and watches him eat all of it in less than five minutes. “You don’t actually mind more plants, right?”

“Nah. It’s fine.” Galo blows his nose and sniffles. “What did you say this one’s called?”

“Peace lily.”

“It fits. We need way more peace than we’ve got now.”

“That’s why I got it.” When he has to deal with the distrust and the questions, and the challenge of virtually having a different life from before, a thriving plant is more trustworthy than humans. “You should sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“No.  _ Sleep _ .” Lio hands him another tissue. “I’ll be here.” As he has been, the past few weeks.

He’s already buying plants; therefore, he can’t leave. That’s a responsibility he chose.

And that includes tucking blankets over Galo, getting him more water, and keeping himself curled up next to him, even when Galo flails in his sleep and ends up nearly smothering him when he seizes Lio and pulls him close, snoring against his ear.

It’s still better than the horrible poncho.

**III.**

By this point, he knows the names of most common houseplants, as well as the lesser known ones because he frequently visits florists. On the really, really bad days, he’ll consider buying a plant. Or two. Or three.

Today, he almost buys a cactus. There are tiny ones that fit into the palm of his hand, so full of needles they almost look fuzzy.

Instead, he buys an armload of succulents, which were technically cactus but cuter. Some green, some red-tinged. Some pointy, some with small rounded leaves. He lines them up on the ledge (the peace lily has grown too large, and now has a table to itself), all five of them. When Galo comes back from a movie, Lio is spraying the succulents with a bottle he also just bought.

“More?”

“More.”

“They’re cute.” Galo seems to have resigned himself to more plants. He leans over Lio’s shoulder. “What are they?”

“Succulents.”

“Well, I guess they look pretty juicy…”

Lio blinks. “No, they’re called succulents.”

“Really? Must’ve missed out on a biology lesson or two.” Galo waves a hand. “But guess what’s also succulent?”

“What?”

“You’re succulent,” Galo says, smirking.

Lio sprays him with water. “That word is being overused.”

“Maybe it should be your new nickname. Succul—”

Lio sprays him again. “Don’t,” he warns, “or I’m taking the couch tonight. With the plants.”

Galo offers a mock look of betrayal as he swipes the droplets from his face. “That’s mean, Lio. You’d choose the plants over me?”

“If you keep saying ‘succulent’ like that, yes.”

“Fine, fine. But have you seen yourself in a mirror?”

He’s going to run out of water, so he kisses Galo instead—one of the fastest ways to get him to stop talking. “You’re acting like you haven’t seen me before.”

“More like I haven’t seen this side of you often.”

“What do you mean?”

“You looked really happy when I came in.” Galo skims the side of Lio’s jawline with his thumb. “Like you weren’t bothered by anything.”

“I was upset before, but it’s hard to be mad about anything when I’m taking care of them.” There’s a science somewhere about green being calming. “Or when I’m around you.”

“Maybe I’m the succulent one!”

He laughs, and elbows Galo. “Shut up.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t say it again.” Galo picks up one of the plants. “Did you ever think about naming them?”

“People do that?”

“I had a teacher that named all his plants after astronauts.”

Lio blinks. “I guess if you want to.”

It turns out that Galo isn’t great at naming, because he ends up calling them Galo II, Lio II, and so forth.

Lio tries too, but he gets as far as “Spiky” before they both give up.

“But this bright green one is definitely a Lio,” Galo insists, “It’s got your hair!”

Galo gets the couch for one hour that night, before Lio lets him back into the room.

They still call that one succulent “Fotia.”

**IV.**

Months later, Galo actually goes out and buys a plant. He had come back and asked Lio to close his eyes, before presenting it to him.

“It smelled good, so I figured why not.”

Lio sniffs it. “Jasmine?” A plant that he has been tempted by, a few times.

“Got it on the first try.” Galo pats the pot. “Where should we keep it?”

“Inside.” He’ll look up the care of it later. “I didn’t expect you to buy one.”

“Guess you rubbed off on me.” He gestures at all the other plants. “They’re doing great, by the way.”

He picks up the pot. “Better than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“I burned a couple of forests here and there…” Not exactly on purpose. “And it’s not like I had this kind of time back then.” On the run, in places where nature was harsh—situations where only things to survive were Burnish. “I still don’t really know what I’m doing now.”

“Helping people.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like a lot.” In catastrophes, humans acted wildly and aggressively. In fights, impulses were everything. It’s not that Burning Rescue is dull, but life didn’t feel the same. He went from shapeshifting, manipulating flames, forcibly regulating his body temperature, to…being quite ordinary.

“Galo, do you think I do enough?”

“You do plenty!”

“I mean…for others. For myself.” Here he is, keeping himself and some plants alive, while trying to understand his purpose in life. “For you.”

“Lio.” Galo takes the pot, sets it to the side, and wraps his arms around Lio. “You do plenty for everyone. You’re always thinking about others—and not just the plants. It’s not the amount. It’s the passion.” He breathes out, the air teasing at the strands of their hair. “We do what we can, and we do our damn best.”

Lio thinks about all the lives lost, to Freezing Force, to Kray Foresight’s experiments, and to his own failures at protecting. Bureaucracy is slow; suspicions against Burnish still remain, rumours abounding that they were antagonistic and liked to set things on fire.

And he thinks about the ex-Burnish that now have homes and jobs, and the people who’ve appeared to support them, the organisation that pledged, and the children that no longer had to hide

“Galo.” Lio’s voice is muffled in Galo’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“You’re coming with me the next time I decide I want another plant.”

“More, Lio?”

“Maybe I want a greenhouse.”

“As long as they don’t…take over the bathtub or something.” Galo pauses. “Or the bed. That’s  _ ours _ .”

He laughs. “Okay.”

**.end.**

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: finwion
> 
> Thank you to the mods for organising this, and please remember to do what you can for this world. Any bit helps!


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